We're Stuck Here
by fandomsareokayiguess
Summary: Amy and Rory have just had a not so nice experience with some weeping angels. Devastated they will probably never see their best friend again, this is the story of them trying to get through.
1. Chapter 1

Amy's eyes fluttered open, and she felt Rory's arms circling her shoulders. He was warm and he spoke soft words of comfort.

"Shh, Amy, it's okay, we'll be okay, we're together," Rory spoke quietly as tears dripped down her face.

Amy looked around, trying to figure out where and when they were. It still looked like they were in New York City, but a separate part. Rory wondered over to a newspaper stand and bought the latest edition. The date read "April 23rd,1954"

"Rory! Your phone! You can call your dad, call the Doctor, call anybody!" Amy stage whispered.

Her tears had stopped, but her voice still shook. The former time travelers looked around to find some where nobody could see them using a mobile phone, which hadn't even been invented yet. They spotted an alleyway between a café and a little boutique.

"Amy, am I just supposed to ring my dad and say 'Hey, you know our friend, the Doctor, well we went to New York with him and our daughter, going on adventures and stuff! We had to jump off a building and now we're stuck in the fifties and can't go back! Alright, love you, probably never see you again!'?" Rory asked sarcastically.

Amy shook her head, laughing. As she did, Rory clicked his phone on to call his dad.

"Uh, hi, Dad," Rory began.

He tried his best to explain their situation to the best of his ability without putting blame on the doctor. Brian didn't blame the doctor, which was good, but Rory heard sniffles over the line. Rory handed the phone to Amy. She would either make the situation far worse or much better. He hoped for the latter.

"Brian, we'll be okay, but we can't contact you. We are both capable of living our own lives, but we need to avoid anything that could damage our timeline.

Brian didn't say anything, Amy imagined him silently nodding like usual.

"Are you alright, Brian?" Amy asked, breaking the loudest silence she'd ever heard.

"Yeah, Amy, yeah. Can I speak to Rory?"

Amy handed the phone to Rory. The father and son spoke briefly, saying goodbye. As soon as he hung up, Rory stared blankly at the screen. He finally turned the phone off, hoping maybe there would be somebody else to call someday. Amy pulled Rory into a hug, slouching to give Rory the satisfaction of being the taller one. After they let go, they peered out at the bustling street.

"We need a place to stay while we look for jobs," Rory mentioned.

"And clothes. Jeans in the fifties is probably bad. Poodle skirts?" Amy said while looking down at her own clothing.

They nodded to each other and they were on their way. Shopping was first on their to do list. Amy was quite excited about full skirts with poodles embroidered on them, but unfortunately, only the former was true. She desperately wanted to avoid heels so she wouldn't tower over her husband. Rory left wearing something that the doctor might wear. Not purposely, but that was nearly all of what was in the shop. Rory fastened a bowtie around his neck.

"Bowties are cool," the couple laughed in unison.

They left the shop with bags in hand, and headed for a hotel. Nothing too fancy, they didn't have much money. The first hotel they went to was the one they booked a room at. Their room was gorgeous. Beautiful linens, subtle blue wallpaper, and a soft bed all made for a room worth much more than what they paid for, even by fifties standards.

"I'm going to that café we passed earlier. Want anything?" Amy asked.

"Coffee, please," he replied.

The walk to the café was quick, but when the wind picked up and the temperature dropped it felt like she had been walking forever. The strong scent of coffee hit her as she walked in. A man of about sixty and a woman about Amy's age stood behind the counter.

"Hello!" the young lady piped.

"You're not American," Amy replied, confused. The girl sounded like she was from northern England.

"Neither are you, love," the elder of the two said as he picked up Amy's hand.

"She's married, John!" she said, hitting him with the back of her hand.

Noticing the bands on her finger, he retracted his hand.

"John Smith, and this is," he paused to cough. "My lovely niece, Clara."

Clara waved and stuck her hand out to shake.

"Amelia Williams, but I would prefer Amy."

Clara whispered something into John's ear that Amy couldn't make out, but their matters were none of her business. When Clara pulled away, John just looked at her and nodded slowly, As opposed to getting drinks and leaving she ended up staying and chatting for a bit.

Amy hadn't made up a story for herself yet, so she avoided the topic of herself. When the conversation turned to her she changed the conversation.

"I had a friend called John Smith, but who knows next time I'll see him."

"Must be a common name, then."

Looking at the time, she realized how long she'd been gone for.

"Shoot, I have to go. Can I get a black coffee to go?"

As soon as Clara finished pouring the cup, Amy was on her way. She walked quickly, careful not to spill the coffee. She came back to the room to find Rory asleep on the arm chair.

"Rory, I have your coffee!"

"God, Amy, what took you so long?

"I was chatting with the staff! They were lovely, you should meet them!"

"Maybe tomorrow. Let's just hang out in the room. Order takeout. I'm tired."

"I don't think takeout's an option. Room service?" Amy suggested.

And they did just that. They hung out in the room with room service and tried to push away the fact they would never see their closest friends ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note?** Author's notes won't be a regular occurrence, but when I find necessary, I will post one. So, just so you know, this chapter is in a Twelve/ Clara POV. Also, sorry for the wait.****

"Just this once, can we go somewhere there's not a decent chance I die?" Clara asked.

"There's always a chance of danger, Clara. As long as you're with me it's unavoidable.

Clara rolled her eyes and let herself into the TARDIS. The Doctor followed after her and put his hand on her shoulder. His eyes grew sad but he forced a smile.

"We're going to New York, Clara."

"I thought you said you'd never go to New York. Bad memories and stuff," Clara said.

"I've had a while to think about it, and I need closure. Closure with some friends I lost. I just needed to tell you this one will be a while. No one will notice you're gone, but you'll know. You'll age." he told her solemnly.

"If you want me to go, I will. New York will be fun! When are we going?" Clara asked hesitantly.

"1954!"

"New York in the fifties, what should I bring?"

The Doctor assured her that everything she may need was in the TARDIS. Clara leaned up against the console as the Doctor flew them to 1954. Once they arrived, the Doctor dashed over to the door, to block Clara from getting out.

"This mission, if you will, is going to be a bit tricky. You will refer to me as John when we're in public. I am your uncle."

"I can do that, doc—John. John. I can do that, John," Clara replied cheerfully.

"I think you look lovely, Clara, but you'll stick out like a sore thumb in New York in the fifties."

Clara smiled and looked down at her dress. She did suppose it wasn't terribly fifties-esque. The Doctor lead her to a giant walk in closet. Her eye caught on a bubble gum pink dress. She picked it up, but the doctor shook his head.

"Anything but that dress Clara. Anything," The doctor said softly.

Clara respected his wishes and didn't ask. It was usually best not to ask. Asking lead to them not speaking and him cursing softly to himself. He didn't curse to be mad at anyone else. He cursed because he was upset with himself.

She did end up finding a dress; it was navy blue. The doctor let her know it was cold out, considering it was February in New York City. She found a cream colored peacoat and met the Doctor at the door. He linked arms with Clara and they were on their way. They noticed immediately that there was red and pink papers hearts everywhere.

"Well, Doctor, looks like it is St. Valentine's Day!"

"Sure is, Clara, But we have bigger problems than hopeless love birds all over New York City."

They strolled casually around the city, waving to the people who passed them. The people here were friendly, but they kept to themselves. The walked for nearly an hour, but the Doctor stopped short right in front of a coffee shop.

"What is it Doctor?" Clara asked curiously.

The Doctor said nothing, just grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. He brought his mouth up to her ear and spoke.

"We need a job here. Don't ask why, I'll explain when it matters," he whispered.

The Doctor let go of her hand and popped outside quickly. He came back with a flyer advertising a job. He hoped it was really advertising two jobs. He walked up to the lady at the counter. He put down the flyer in front of her.

"We hear you are looking to hire. I hope that offer stands for two."

"Of course, we're always looking for more help. But if you don't mind, where are you two from?"

The doctor smiled and looked at Clara.

"I'm from Scotland, and she's from northern England."

The waitress nodded and brought them into a back room. They sat across from her and she asked for resumes. Clara panicked but he smoothly pulled them out of his jacket pocket and handed them to her.

"These look fantastic. I think I'll hire you right now, both of you!" she squeaked.

She told them to stay there while she told her boss to take flyers down. Clara stood up and put her hands on her hips, showing disappointment.

"Fake resumes, Doctor?" She whispered loudly.

"The information isn't all fake, she just saw what she wanted to," he replied.

It was the psychic paper, of course. The young lady came bounding through the door.

"We're already short-staff and someone just went home sick. How soon can you start?"

The Doctor looked to Clara and smirked.

"We can start right now!" Clara replied cheerfully.

"Well John, Clara, we don't have any uniforms for you, but here's an apron."

Clara took the apron and thanked her for the jobs.

"I never caught your name, what was it?"

"Jenny!" She called back to Clara.

Clara nodded and fashioned the apron around herself. Italic letters read "Moe's Diner and Café".

"Who's Moe?" Clara asked.

"The owner, my father. Not here much anymore though."

Clara nodded and they both went to start working. They worked until the diner closed, and when it did, they headed back to the TARDIS. They both sat by the console quietly, until Clara broke the silence.

"Are you ever going to be more specific with what we're doing? At least tell me who you're looking for?" Clara asked of the Doctor.

"We're looking for a married couple. The lady—a dear friend, practically family—she's got the reddest hair you've ever seen and a Scottish tongue. Rather feisty, and far taller than you. The man, well, he's got a bit of a prominent nose. English, and he's well nice."

Clara nodded, and said she'd be on the lookout.

"You probably won't meet them for a while," The Doctor told her.

Clara smiled at him. He deserved closure.

Clara and the Doctor went over two months living normally. Getting up, working in the diner, watching out for the Doctor's friends. Their lives were stagnant. Clara's need for the regular excitement with the Doctor grew. She was getting bored.

"Doctor, how much longer?"

"Any day now Clara," he replied. And he was right.

Clara stood at the counter with the Doctor one day when a woman, about Clara's age, walked through the door.

"Hello!" Clara greeted her, as she did every customer.

"You're not American," the lady said awkwardly.

"Neither are you, love," the Doctor retorted, holding her hand in his. And he was right. She was Scottish, as well as tall, and her hair was red. Was this her?

"She's married, John!" Clara had gotten used to calling the Doctor John in public. It was hard at first, but she had gotten used to it.

Noticing the bands on her finger, he retracted his hand.

"John Smith, and this is," he stopped, he wasn't used to referring to Clara as his niece. "My lovely niece, Clara."

"Amelia Williams, but I would prefer Amy."

The doctor had mentioned that name in passing, like just before he had regenerated. This must be her. Clara rolled up to her tippy-toes and whispered into the Doctor's ear.

"Is that her, Doctor, is that your old friend?" she spoke as softly as she could.

Clara stood flat again and the Doctor stared at her and nodded. The three talked for a bit, just small talk but Clara could see how the Doctor lit up when she spoke. The café grew silent, many left, and then the conversation between Amy, Clara, and John grew to a halt.

"I had a friend called John Smith, but who knows next time I'll see him," Amy mention

The doctor darted his eyes to Clara. They couldn't blow their cover just yet. "Must be a common name, then."

Amy looked down at her watch and realized how long she'd been.

"Shoot, I have to go. Can I get a black coffee to go?"

Clara poured the coffee and Amy jogged out the door. Noticing they had worked fifteen minutes past their shift, they left. Once in the TARDIS, the Doctor grabbed hold of Clara's hands and spun her around.

"We've found her, Clara, we've found her!


	3. Chapter 3

**I am *so* sorry for not updating, I'll try harder to update more in the future. If you were to review, that'd be awesome! Thanks for reading!**

"RORY!" Amy shouted from the bathroom. "Let's go get breakfast!"

"At that diner you told me about?" Rory asked, even though he knew the answer was yes.

Amy nodded and grabbed the coat she'd bought just hours earlier. Rory grabbed her hand, even though he was unsure of the PDA norms of New York City in the fifties. They walked out of the hotel hand in hand, ignoring any looks they may of or may not have been getting.

"Maybe you can meet the lovely people working at the counter! But then our first priority is to go on a job search." Amy spoke softly.

Rory nodded at her and they were off in the brisk New York April air. Before they walked into the Café/ diner Amy peeked into the window to see if they were there. Luckily, they were. Amy walked in and was greeted by a friendly smile from Clara.

"Is this Rory?" Clara asked.

Rory chuckled and waved. John stuck his hand out to shake Rory's. Clara pulled two mugs from under the counter and poured coffee into Rory's mug and Tea into Amy's, remembering exactly how each liked their drinks. The four chatted briefly, until Rory reminded Amy they needed to get on the job hunt.

"We have job listings over on that board if you're interested!"

"Thank you, Clara!" Amy replied graciously.

They got up for their stools and walked towards the bulletin board. Amy's eye immediately caught a job listing for an assistant job at a publishing office. The only problem is that they were seriously lacking in resumes. Maybe she could beg and plead her way through the job. She hoped so. She could put well-traveled on her resume! Well-traveled was a gross understatement, but if they published travel pieces, it could provide useful.

"Rory? Find anything you like?"

"Not really…" he trailed off, but he was still looking.

"I've found something, so could you please look later! I need to figure out a resume!"

"Doctor, will you ever tell them who you are?" Clara asked as she mindlessly washed the counter.

"To be honest, Clara, I don't know. I don't want to give them the hope we can take them back. Maybe when we leave I'll leave a note behind."

Clara nodded, but she still wished she could just take them for a stroll to the TARDIS and back to their families. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like if she was in Amy and Rory's shoes.

Amy stared up at the skyscraper that was the home to the Publishing Office on the flyer. Before going to the building, her and Rory stopped at a library to attempt to work on resumes. They both hoped nobody was thorough enough to check records in England, considering nearly all of the experience wouldn't happen for another 40 years. And the rest of the experience was on travels with the doctor, during long term stays in places.

Amy fixed her hair and walked into the skyscraper's front entrance. She walked up to a service desk and waited for a woman to hang up her phone. She almost laughed at the sight of the phone, thinking of her own smart phone back in the room.

"Hi, my name is Amelia Pond-Williams and I'm here for," she paused to pull the wrinkled flyer from her bag. "I'm here to apply for the assistant job?" she said it in a way that sounded like she was questioning herself.

"Well, honey," she spoke in a slight New York accent, "I can't get you in for the interview right now, but I can set up an interview for you!"

Amy nodded enthusiastically as the secretary pushed up her cherry red cat eye glasses.

"How's Tuesday?" the secretary suggested.

That was three days away. That would give her time to figure this stuff out.

"That sounds great, thank you!"

Amy turned around on her heel and headed out the door. She waved back to the secretary just as she pushed herself out the door.

"What's up?" Rory asked, pertaining to the interview.

"She set up for me to go in on Tuesday!"

Rory smiled at her and grabbed her hand. They walked in sync down the street, back to the hotel. Amy looked at the contents of the display windows in department stores, and Rory pointed out cars he liked. This walk was there most at ease walk that they'd had in a while. No worries of stone angels chasing them or aliens trying to kill them. As much as they refused to admit it, maybe being away from the Doctor was a good thing. When they reached the door into the lobby of their hotel, Amy put her hand in front of Rory's torso.

"We're in New York, Rory. Let's seize the day! Let's explore!" Amy smiled at him.

Rory, despite still being kind of tired, agreed. He did want to see New York. Amy grabbed a hold of his hand again and dashed away from where they had just been. There was a lot to do in Manhattan, even in the fifties.

"Let's go to Central Park!" She was like a child now, eyes bright and smile wide.

It was nice for Rory to see her like this. She was always so stressed out. It hurt Rory to see her upset, so he completely intended on trying to make Amy as happy as he could.

When they were almost to the park, Amy pointed and a horse and buggy stand. They were only a dime! She practically dragged Rory to the stand. Amy only had bills with her, so Rory offered a quarter to the woman standing behind the stand. He told her to keep the change, and the woman with a grim expression on her face suddenly brightened up. She told them to wait by the bench next to the stand for the next buggy to come along. It wasn't a long wait, and when one did come along the man navigating the horse and buggy removed himself from his perch to help Amy into the cart. Amy and Rory chatted with the man bringing them in and around central park. It went like most conversation here would.

"Where are you two from?" They would ask.

"We're from the UK," they would always reply politely.

They might ask what brought them there or why they left. It was a different answer every time. Someday, they would need a definite answer, but it was fun to play around with scenarios. Sometimes they would just go with a prolonged honeymoon, or that they wanted to travel, or sometimes that they hated back home. None of them were true of course, if they told them the truth; there would be no way anyone would believe them. Their life in New York would be nothing but elaborate lies.


End file.
